


Dinner for Two

by Gowombat83



Series: Cullistair [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gowombat83/pseuds/Gowombat83
Summary: This is just some personal musing that I couldn't seem to shake off, so I wrote it down, about what might have happened following the wonderful short story by Seabirdsong. Written with all the respect they deserve for their work.E rating purely because of the story that inspired this. If you haven't read it, and Cullistair smut is your bag, you really really should! Also this won't make much sense without it.





	Dinner for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Compromising Position](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214126) by [Seabirdsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seabirdsong/pseuds/Seabirdsong). 



> I fully suck at titles...

Alistair knew the moment Cullen fully awoke, the body behind him suddenly going rigid and what had been the deep breath of sleep sped up on the back of his neck.

He waited, allowing Cullen to take in his surroundings and remember what had transpired the night before. Absently his thumb rubbed small circles on Cullen’s hand where their fingers were still threaded together over Alistair’s abdomen. After a few minutes he took the squeeze on his hand as a cue and shifted so he could more easily make eye contact with the man over his shoulder.

“Good morning,” he grinned at the bleary eyed and thoroughly tousled blonde behind him, who returned a lopsided smile.

“Morning,” Cullen’s voice was thick and gravelled with fatigue and likely dehydration, if Alistair’s own dry-mouth was any indication.

“Do you think there’s much chance of us making a dash for the baths without being seen? I don’t know about you, but I could use a soak in a hot tub.”

Cullen groaned through a thin chuckle and let his head fall forward into the back of Alistair’s shoulder before disentangling their hands to push himself to sit upright. Immediately he let out a sharp hiss and readjusted to lean his weight more to one side.

Freed from the weight of the other man’s body Alistair swung his legs over the edge of the bed and promptly repeated both the hiss and the side-lean as he discovered pains of his own, causing them both to laugh lowly. Though the aches he felt were tender, they were also kind of pleasant when he considered how he got them.

The silence as they rose and took their time assessing various new sensations- both physical and emotional- was somehow both comfortable and awkward, loaded with hesitant optimism and trepidation.

As Alistair had lain cradled in the sleep-heavy embrace of his unexpected lover he’d had a bit of time to consider his thoughts and feelings on what had happened between them. He was a little surprised to find that he was open to the possibility of exploring this further with Cullen, if the opportunity presented itself. And if it didn’t, then it was an experience he would look back on with fondness.

From the corner of his eye Alistair watched Cullen hunt up his clothing and hastily pull on his breeches, back turned to give the illusion of privacy. It made him snort, after what they’d done with and too each other it seemed superfluous but he wasn’t about to put Cullen on the spot about it, in fact he found it kind of adorable. Doing the same Alistair pulled on his own pants but left them unlaced, he didn’t even bother with a shirt. As soon as Cullen left he would grab clean clothes and a towel and go bath- he definitely needed it. Even now as he moved he could feel the pull and crust of dried fluids on his skin, not to mention the pungent perfume of sweat, rum, oil, and sex. While he didn’t mind it, it would undoubtedly stir the ire of the flocks of simpering nobles within Skyhold- something he’d been quite firmly warned against by the charmingly terrifying Ambassador.

Cullen cleared his throat behind him to get his attention, Alistair smiled to himself- this should be interesting if nothing else. He turned to face the Commander, his shirt dangling from one lose fist clearly worse for wear. As their eyes met Cullen’s other hand went to rub at his neck, a nervous tick he’d noticed in the man.

“Well, I should take my leave…. I, uh, thank you, for…. for last night- for everything I suppose…” he dropped his hand and huffed, clearly exasperated with himself. Alistair didn’t feel any less awkard but decided to cut Cullen a break and make this as easy as possible on both of them. He smiled easily, keeping his posture more relaxed than he felt.

“Cullen, it’s alright. Look, what happened, well it’s not like I find myself in this kind of situation often but it doesn’t have to be weird. It happened. If it helps you to know, I don’t regret it. I hope you don’t either. The way I see it there are three ways this could go; we can let it get awkward, avoid each other and try not to expire from blushing every time we cross paths, or we can take it for what it was – an unusual but enjoyable encounter- and nothing between us has to change.”

“And, what’s the third option,” Cullen asked, a wry twist to his lips.

“Well, I’m heading out tomorrow with the Inquisitor and expect to be gone for at least a week. It’s a good amount of time to….ruminate on things. When I return, we could have a meal, dinner, maybe some wine, and … talk. If you’d like, that is. If at that time we part ways and go on as before, fine.  But..” he felt the thrum of nerves in his stomach, but pressed on, taking a few slow steps forward but still leaving a fair space between them, “I can’t say I’m not at least _intrigued_ by the possibility of perhaps exploring this, _something,_ further _._ Whatever it is or might be, well, that’s something to think about while I’m away. Either way Cullen, whatever you decide there’s no pressure on my part, and I honestly won’t think any differently of you whatever you choose.”

Alistair held his gaze steady, long enough to convey the earnest truth of his words. It was a subtle shift but when the unconscious tension in Cullen’s shoulders relaxed he let out a small sigh of his own.

The corner of Cullen’s mouth softened, “Then, I believe I shall see you for supper, perhaps the next evening after you return?” he asked, it was cautiously hopeful, and it made Alistair’s chest warm.

“I’ll bring the wine,” he gave a full smiled at that and leaned on the edge of the door Cullen had opened in preparation of his departure.

Cullen stepped through the portal and faltered, after a moment of contemplating his boots he looked up again, the pair now no more than two feet apart.

“If it helps at all to know, I don’t regret it either,” he echoed Alistair’s own admission lowly, his solemn citrine eyes holding him for a breath before dropping again to the flagstones, “Travel safe, Alistair.” And with that he was gone, headed for his own tower further along the battlements.

Alistair watched him until he disappeared around a corner and out of sight before retreating back into his room and closing the door. _Well, that’s something_ he thought as he gathered his things and headed for the baths.

**

The Inquisitor returned to Skyhold  after almost two weeks on mission, and so the evening after, an hour before sunset, Cullen was pacing. He strode one way then turned smartly and strode the other across the bare floorboards of his loft, second guessing himself and the meal he’d prepared for two at a small table downstairs. He’d had it brought in and set it himself by the hearth in his office. The desk was tidied of all clutter, important papers and spare quills and pots of ink all stowed, books neatly stacked back on their shelves, and floor swept- not so much as a concerted effort to prepare the space for his guest but as an outlet for all the nervous tension.

In the time that Alistair was absent Cullen had taken his suggestion seriously, and spent considerable hours thinking and rethinking and inevitably overthinking the possible outcomes of this evening as a continuation of their unplanned but retrospectively not unwelcome tryst.

It occurred to Cullen that while he’d never before considered or even fleetingly entertained the notion of another man as a sexual prospect he was honest enough with himself to understand that it wasn’t _only_ his and Alistair’s mind-blowing fuck - which was truly like nothing else he’d ever come close to in previous couplings - but also Alistair himself, and Cullen’s respect and admiration for the Warden that ultimately prompted him towards that tantalising option number three.

He was attracted to the tall, broad, redhead. His humour, his combat prowess, distinguished features, but also he was humble, self-effacing, uncomplicated in a way Cullen had never been able to aspire to. Alistair was, in a word, beautiful, and Cullen wanted a little more of that in his life. Though he knew he’d be okay if Alistair decided otherwise Cullen was willing to take the chance. He’d let pass by so many opportunities in life, always denying himself, his penance as he thought of it, this time he just wasn’t willing to dismiss this- whatever _this_ might be- out of hand. 

And so, he paced.

It was a knock at his northern door that finally broke his pattern. Taking a deep breath to still his nerves Cullen made his way down to the office and admitted his guest.

Alistair stood in the doorway, bottle in hand and eyes bright as he greeted him, “Cullen, it’s good to see you. Not late I hope?” he stepped through the door at Cullen’s gesture and set the wine on the table beside two plain goblets.

“Not at all, the meal should be arriving any time now. Shall I?” Cullen indicated the bottle and began to uncork it at Alistair’s assent. Another knock, at the east entrance this time, “Ah,” he handed off the bottle and dagger to Alistair to finish and retrieved the large cloth covered tray from the servant at the door. After thanking them and sealing the door he set their feast on the table while his companion poured two cups and took a seat, “I hope you’re hungry,” Cullen indicated the generous spread.

“Always,” came the genial reply. Alistair tasted the rich red vino and hummed.

Cullen smiled, feeling a little more relaxed now there was something to keep his hands and eyes from betraying him. He sat opposite and busied them by uncovering various bowls and dishes, and beginning to load his plate when Alistair started by spearing a slab of roasted ram on his dagger and plopping it on his own.

They ate and talked, laughed, and finally full and warm and comfortable they moved the little table to the side, the remnants of their meal gone cold. The last of the wine was divided between them they sat their chairs in the warm glow of the hearth, close enough for their knees to touch, and eventually they fell to silence. All the small talk done the atmosphere was pregnant with unrealised potential. It wasn’t uncomfortable though, while both knew there was one more question to be addressed - the whole reason they were there - and though there were four possible answers only one of them led down the path towards that curious “more”.

By unspoken assent they lingered in the moment just to enjoy the possibilities before they would either move forward together, or apart. Cullen knew which he preferred, in his mind it rested upon Alistair to make that final decision for them both.

“So, here we are. Dinner done. Wine,” Alistair lifted his hand holding his cup, “I suppose this is the part where we talk, yes?” His tone was light with good humour, though undoubtedly masking an unease to match Cullen’s own.

“I… yes, I suppose it is.” Suddenly Cullen’s mouth felt dry and he took a too-large mouthful of wine.

“I’ll begin, shall I?” Alistair filled the gap while Cullen fought not to choke. Swallowing painfully he nodded, grateful for the rescue.

“Alright, “Alistair sat up straighter in his chair and twisted a little to face Cullen more squarely. Cullen noted a slight tick, Alistair’s fingers twitching where he gripped the arms of his seat. It made him feel better that he wasn’t alone in his trepidation. Alistair cleared his throat, “Cullen, I want to be clear that whatever comes of this evening, it’s going to be alright. It’s not like there’s a strategy playbook for these things but we’re both grown men, I think we can feel our way through, play it by ear. There’s no pass or fail here, I get the feeling that you’re used to having clear and definite guidelines,” he smiled kindly. “So look, for my part, I hold to what I said before- I’m interested to see what, if anything, comes after this. I… I admit that I admire you, and had we not already spent an entire evening in such…. intense and _thoroughly gratifying_ pleasure, that might’ve been the extent of my _regard_ for you. But we did and it _isn’t_ , so, whether or not that sways your decision there it is. I’ll leave the final word in your hands, and will respect whatever your wishes.” He sat back, expression carefully neutral to await the outcome.

Cullen had listened to Alistair’s affirmation that he wanted to pursue things further, now that there were two definite paths open to him where before it was only a nebulous possibility set Cullen’s pulse to throbbing. There was apprehension certainly, though he knew relationships between two men happened it wasn’t common, or at least not common knowledge, and the element of the unknown was daunting, but at the same time there was a counterweight of excitement. He hadn’t dared allow himself to hope too intensely that this opportunity might eventuate.

Cullen realised he’d taken too long to respond when Alistair began to fidget and his eyes dropped with an almost imperceptible nod of resignation. When he looked as though he were about to rise, perhaps to leave Cullen’s hand shot out, fingertips resting light but steady on Alistair’s forearm.

“A moment, please?” he implored softly, he just needed a moment to solidify his thoughts in a way that would translate to the right words.

Alistair nodded and settled back, but his hooded hazel eyes and the sharp line of tension in his shoulders made his thoughts of rejection evident. Still, he waited, and Cullen breathed.

“I’d never desired another man before that night together. It’s quite a mindset shift to go from never having considered a man in such a light, to suddenly finding myself quite shamelessly in the throes with one in the space of a single evening. But, on reflection I find that I _do_ desire you, Alistair. And thinking it over while you were gone, I don’t believe that it’s only due to just how much I enjoyed being in that situation with you.” his words were measured, careful as he continued, “while it may have been the herb that began this, I would like to, if you are willing, at least find out if it also _ended_ with it.”

He took a deep breath and waited for Alistair’s reaction. Everything was out in the open now, they both wanted to take a step forward, towards what was yet to be defined but it was a step at least. Now that hurdle was cleared the next was- _how?_ Cullen was glad that while it was likely to be awkward and messy, and at times confusing, knowing Alistair he’d find a way to make it alright- alright to be awkward and messy, alright to be confused, alright to falter- and even when it was, he’d find a way to somehow make it all seem charming.

Feeling brave, and considering Alistair had taking most of the risks by putting himself out there first, Cullen acted upon a sudden whim before he could talk himself out of it. On the edge of his seat he leaned forward resting one suddenly sweating palm for balance on Alistair’s knee. Narrowing the gap between them with tentative bravery, Cullen hesitated a fraction of a second, eyes fixed upon his parted lips before he closed the last few inches of space, and kissed him.

It was sure, at least, no fumbling awkward thing. Their lips sandwiched together in a definite yet gentle caress. With that final barrier now broken Alistair reciprocated a heartbeat later, pulling himself to the very edge of his chair and slotting his knees either side of one of Cullen’s. Though they’d kissed before- and with a great deal more ardour- there was no lust-inducing herb to fuel their movement and collar their inhibitions. This time and it was, for all intents and purposes, very much like a first kiss.

The pace was measured, inoffensive, an almost chaste open-mouthed slide of lips, and yet it set Cullen’s pulse to throbbing. He hadn’t been sure that what he’d felt before wasn’t all due to the potion they’d been given, and knowing now that it wasn’t only spurred his confidence. Before he could move to deepen the kiss Alistair was already tilting his head, and at the prod of a wet tongue on his lip he eagerly gave it entrance.

Cullen felt a hand at his neck, while his own had moved from knee to thigh, the awkward angle of the way they sat curbing further exploration. It was just as well though, Cullen hadn’t intended to get heavy right off the cuff but only wished to reward, or perhaps emulate Alistair’s daring, without which Cullen wasn’t sure they’d be at this point, had it been left to him to make the first move. He was grateful for Alistair’s courage and it bolstered his own, and now having made it this far it was up to them, together, to figure out what came next.

As they kissed, the taste of wine and Alistair on his tongue, Cullen was excited to find out.


End file.
